


the blue jay

by itzijn



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Birdwatching, Boys In Love, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Soft Bill Denbrough, Soft Stanley Uris, Soulmates, stenbrough just doing what they love while being with who they love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23435815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzijn/pseuds/itzijn
Summary: Bill had added a bunch of blue jays flying around Stan in that piece. He does that with most of the drawings of Stan, especially the ones that he draws when they go birdwatching. Whatever interesting bird Stan finds that day, Bill will have them surround Stan, like he was an angel and the birds were clouds in heaven.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	the blue jay

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first stenbrough fic! i'm made stenbrough aus, but i decided it was finally time to write a fic about my favorite boys. so, here's a bunch of mind-numbing fluff, my specialty n_n (make sure to follow me on twitter, @1917films)

The April sun shone through the luscious light green leaves of the tall forest trees, as shadows danced on the grass of the small clearing, and the light red cotton blanket two boys were sitting on. A warm breeze blew through and tousled their hair, tickling their foreheads and the back of their necks. 

On one side of the blanket sat Stanley Uris, dressed in a blue long sleeved button up, dark jeans, and crisp white sneakers. He sat up straight and his legs were crossed, his chin was pointed up as he scanned the trees above. His face was very relaxed, and his coffee colored eyes were humble and welcoming, giving off a sense of maturity that a boy his age would not usually possess. A huge hardcover book sat on his lap, and it was opened to a page near the end of the novel.

On the other side of the blanket lay Bill Denbrough. He was dressed in a dark green pullover with a flannel around his waist, light blue jeans, and dark colored sneakers. He was laying down on his stomach, propping himself up with his elbows. In front of him was a thick spiral sketchbook, with a few circles and guidelines on the page. He held a pencil in his hand and tapped it against his cheek, his eyebrows furrowed. He nibbled on his bottom lip and kicked his feet back and forth, deep in thought.

Suddenly, a small bird with a vibrant red head flew overhead, and landed on a low hanging tree branch about six feet away. Stan let out a small gasp, and started to frantically flip through his book, his head rising up and down, continuously checking if the bird was still on the branch.

“Wow, that one’s p-pretty,” Bill mumbled, gazing at the bird, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a small smile. “Have w-we seen that one b-b-before?” 

“No,” Stan replied, obviously very focused to find the bird in the book before it flies away. “I think it’s a red-headed woodpecker, which would be insane, because they’re incredibly rare around here, and in general. They’re almost extinct.” He spoke very fast, his voice rising and falling as the excitement practically poured from his lips.

Bill was now staring at Stan, and his small smile had transformed into a wide, goofy one. Bill couldn’t give two shits about birds, but since Stan adored them, he loved them too. The two boys spent countless warm spring and summer days sitting in this clearing, Stan watching birds and Bill sketching. Bill would ride his bike over to Stan’s house around noon on the days they weren’t hanging out with the rest of the losers, then they would bike over to the forest and stayed there until it began to get dark. 

Stan flipped through a few more pages then abruptly stopped, jamming his finger down onto the page. He slowly slid it across, skimming through paragraph after paragraph. He continued to look up and down at the bird and his book. Stan gasped and reached towards his bag and began to dig through it.

“Is it the red-headed w-w-woodpecker?” Bill asked softly. Stan grabbed a small leather notebook and a black ballpoint pen, then flipped to a page about halfway through and started to scribble frantically.

“Yes, and this is so exciting! I’ve never seen one of these before,” Stan whispered, his voice filled with excitement. Bill could barely see Stan’s eyes since his nose was buried in the book, but he knew that the quiet boy’s eyes were sparkling. 

Bill smiled to himself, and turned back to his sketchbook. He lightly set the tip of his pencil on the page, took a deep breath, and began to draw. He started with the curves of a face, smooth and intricate lines drawn lightly and with lots of care. He added hair; tightly coiled curls, and slowly but surely, the faceless and nameless person became Stanley. 

Bill was never the best with words. The surface level of that claim would be because of his stutter, but truly, it was beyond that. He constantly had all these thoughts and ideas swirling around in his head, but he could never explain them or put them on paper. When he tried to, they were dull and flat in contrast to how vivid and textured they really were. 

Instead, Bill found comfort in art. He was able to express his ideas through beautifully and intricately made artwork. He drew everything: something that he saw on his bike ride to school and thought was beautiful. A setting he saw in his dreams one night. A design for a poster he created in his head. 

But his most favorite thing to draw was his friends; Bill even has a separate sketchbook for just that. Page after page is filled with portraits of the losers; either just one of them, a small group, or all of them. 

Sometimes, he’ll draw them right then and there, in the moment as they model unknowingly. Other times, he’ll keep a picture or a scenario in his head and wait until he gets home. He’s been around these people for years and drawn them countless times; he knows every slight curve of their face and every little birthmark on their body.

He tries to not let himself, but he definitely has favorite works of each of them. Richie at the arcade playing street fighter with Mike, incredibly focused. His tongue is sticking out, his eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s hunched over. You can tell he’s determined to win, no matter what. 

Mike at his barn at a party with the rest of the losers late at night. He has a drink in his hand, and he’s in the middle of laughing at a joke or a story someone had told. His smile lights up the whole room, and he looks so happy, he’s practically glowing.

Eddie sitting in a field of flowers during a picnic. Someone, probably Richie, had put a bunch of daisies in his hair. He had been grumpy and resisted it at first, but then he began to enjoy it. He has a small smile and his hands are folded in his lap. He seems truly at peace.

Ben riding his bike down one of the biggest hills in Derry. They were all having a race, and he was determined to win, since Bill wins almost every time. He has one hand in the air, and is standing up on the bike. His eyes are squinty and his mouth is open, but in a smile.

Beverly at the quarry, sitting on the cliff over the lake. Her feet are dangling off, and she’s kicking them back and forth. The sun is setting and it’s very windy, so her hair is tousled and she’s covering her mouth with her hand to prevent the wind from putting out the cigarette she’s smoking. 

Stan in the spot that they’re currently at now. His favorite bird, a blue jay, had flown overhead, and he was overjoyed. He sees them all the time, but he gets excited every time he sees them, just like it’s the first time. He’s watching it fly by, his mouth open and smiling, and his eyes wide and filled with life. 

Bill had added a bunch of blue jays flying around Stan in that piece. He does that with most of the drawings of Stan, especially the ones that he draws when they go birdwatching. Whatever interesting bird Stan finds that day, Bill will have them surround Stan, like he was an angel and the birds were clouds in heaven.

“Bill?” Stan whispered, really not wanting to bother him, but also simultaneously really wanting to talk to him. It took a bit of time for Bill to start a drawing, but once he did, he was completely immersed in his work. Distracting himself would start the cycle all over again.

“Yeah?” Bill replied without looking up from his drawing.

“I just wanted to thank you for coming here with me all the time,” Bill then looked up at Stan, who was staring into his lap and rubbing his hands together. Bill was a bit confused on why Stan was talking about this now, they’ve been doing this for over a year.

“I don’t know, I just know you don’t really care about birds and I really appreciate that you do this for me,” Stan added. He made eye contact with Bill, and the expression on his face made his heart drop.

“Sorry, that was weird, I don’t know why I said that, I--”

“S-Stan, you’re fine. Doing this with you is probably my f-favorite thing in the world. There’s nowhere else I w-would rather be when we’re here, and definitely n-n-no one else I would rather be with, ever,” Bill said, his voice soft and reassuring. Stan felt an urge to cry, but didn’t know why. Even if he did really want to, he couldn’t make any tears come out. Bill sensed this sadness, and he sat up cross-legged and held out his hands.

“C-Come here, you’re okay,” Bill whispered, and Stan crawled over. He laid down on his side facing away from Bill and hugged his knees, putting his head in his lap. Bill propped himself up with one of his hands, and used the other one to play with Stan’s hair. 

They stayed like this for about five minutes in silence, and their breathing fell into sync. Stan stared at the trees surrounding the clearing, tracing the outline with his eyes. Suddenly, about two feet in front of them, a blue jay landed on their blanket.

Stan gasped and Bill tensed up, lightly grabbing on to the piece of Stan’s hair he was playing with. Bill let go, not wanting to hurt him, and Stan adjusted his position so he could look up at Bill. he had a huge, goofy grin on his face, and that made Bill smile as well.

“Bill, it’s a blue jay! Right here, like right next to us!” Stan whispered intensely, making sure to not scare it away. Bill stared at the gorgeous bird, then back to Stan. His heart ached for something that he could not put his finger on.

“Yeah. This is r-really cool,” Bill replied. “Maybe it c-came cause it sensed you here.” Stan looked back up at Bill and giggled like a child.

“Yeah right, Bill,” Stan joked while turning back to the bird. Then it hit him; his three most favorite things in the whole wide world were here with him: birdwatching, blue jays, and Bill. Stan was so happy, a sort of happiness words cannot describe. He made himself remember this moment so that he could always relive it in his head, forever, no matter what.


End file.
